But Vexley wasn’t wise or observant. His selfish behavior would be his undoing.
His grip on her didn’t loosen. But she no longer cared.
Using that connection, every single place he touched her, she let that strange feeling under her skin loose. Perhaps she was mad. But she’d had enough.
Years of torment, of fear, of folding into herself instead of pushing back, exploded in a torrent of suppressed emotion. Like a dam breaking, everything she’d held back flooded her.
“What the—”
Camilla’s force surged through them both. Vexley’s eyes rolled, showing the whites.
His hands, now fused to her, couldn’t have unclasped her if he’d tried.
She watched distantly as he shook, his body violently convulsing, spittle forming at his mouth—like foam collecting on a churning sea.
She smelled the piss, the excrement, just before the pig collapsed onto his filth, his body twitching one last time.
Camilla stepped back, gaze fixed to the unmoving form, feeling void of emotion. In the distance, perhaps only in her mind, familiar female laughter snaked down her spine. She thought, for one dark second, that her mother would be proud.
She couldn’t say what made her look up; perhaps she knew he’d been there, watching from the shadows. Perhaps she’d simply wished him there and he’d come, summoned by the depravity of what she’d done, or the way she felt not an ounce of remorse.
Envy moved into the light, his attention locked on hers. He said nothing of the man lying dead at her feet. No judgment crossed his features, no fear or revulsion.
Camilla said nothing of the wounds leaking ichor from his body.
Or the brutal way he’d killed in that arena, the pleasure he’d seemed to take in death.
Maybe they were both damned, wicked things, broken in all the right places so they lined up, jagged edge to smooth.
He extended his hand, waiting.
Before she went to him, she grabbed the satchel Blade had gifted her. She didn’t spare another glance at Vexley as she stepped over him. Right now, Camilla wasn’t capable of regret, or worry. Not even shock.
Whatever feelings she’d stored up had emptied, as if she’d used them all.
Clasping Envy’s blood-speckled hand in hers, Camilla gave him one nod and braced for his magic as he whisked them away from the carnage of the vampire court.
FORTY-SIX
ENVY PULLED CAMILLA behind him, his battle senses on high alert, the pain inflicted by the hellebane still searing through him, honing his senses to a sharp blade.
They stood outside the private cottage on the outskirts of his grounds. He wanted a chance to speak with Camilla, to process all he’d just witnessed, and to clean himself up before deciding whether he should risk taking her into his castle. He’d need to walk his House first to ensure that the worst of his court’s failing would be hidden.
Now that would have to wait.
A shadow moved along the forest’s edge, bringing with it that sense of darkness that indicated one thing. Fae.
“Step into the clearing, slowly,” Envy commanded.
The Unseelie did.
The male had a shock of white hair, pale yellow eyes, and lashes blacker than ink. His brown boots were scuffed but well made, his shirtsleeves rolled to show off dark bronze forearms, toned and lethal. The shirt was wrinkled, but even in the dark Envy saw the fine weave of the linen. The Fae wore a hat tugged low, hiding his elegant pointed ears.
He looked like a mortal hunter who’d dashed out from the woods, weapon missing, but most didn’t realize he was the weapon.
Envy recognized him by reputation instantly.
“You’re a long way away from hunting maidens in the woods, Wolf.”
“Rumors abound.” The Fae smiled, revealing more of his face and discarding his human disguise. “They say you crowned a new vampire.”
Wolf’s voice was melodic, mesmerizing, and had been used to seduce more than a few mortals over the years. His voice was a sign he’d once held rank in his court, though he was a long way from home now.
Envy didn’t miss the fact that he’d referenced the gossip column. Wolf had likely come to see if the rumors about House Envy were true, testing the ward’s boundaries. They were true, of course, but the ward Envy had placed was smaller than most would guess, surrounding only his House.
“You have a message from Lennox?” Envy asked.
The Fae drew closer, suddenly curious about Camilla. Too curious.
Envy’s dagger was in hand, the blade still faintly glowing from its recent offerings.
The Unseelie noticed it and stepped back, smiling as if amused.
“Rumors, as I said.” Wolf’s grin spread. “Lovely little shocking rumors.”
He was still looking at Camilla, fixated in a way that wouldn’t end well.
Envy stepped forward, dripping menace.
“My patience wanes.”
“I have no message from the king,” Wolf said. “I was simply curious whether the rumors were true. I see that they are. Delightfully so.”
“If you were curious about the new vampire prince, why come here?”
“Those two are unrelated.” The Fae flashed another smile, this one as wolfish as his name. “I’ll be seeing you, fair winter lady. Shifting seasons are always so beautiful.”
Before Envy could run him through with his blade, the Unseelie was gone, shifting from one reality to another.
Envy glanced back at Camilla, his sin threatening to emerge. For a moment, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Have you met him before?” Envy asked, suspicious.
Her gaze darted to where the Fae had disappeared.
“Everyone’s heard of his legends.”
“Try not to appear so enthralled.” Envy’s mood soured further, noting she hadn’t answered his question. “He hunts women.”
“Those stories aren’t exactly true.” Camilla bit her lower lip after the admission.
“Oh? Do enlighten me, Miss Antonius.”
“Wolf prefers women, but he doesn’t hunt them to eat. Well”—she cleared her throat—“at least not in the way the stories tell it. Wolf’s appetite is… most in Waverly Green believe he tricks maidens into letting him inside their homes. That’s the cautionary tale told by men, at least, but from what I’ve heard, maidens are only too pleased to see Wolf. A night with him is… enough of a threat for men to weave such tall tales.”
He’d battled a vampire and legendary monsters, and Camilla’s face had flushed only when recalling lurid stories of the cursed Unseelie Fae and his bedroom skills. Envy stalked up the stairs to his cottage, wounds stinging.
As if Envy himself hadn’t given her an orgasm with his legendary tongue.
Jealousy, cold and unrelenting, lashed through him.
“Come,” he said, his tone frosty and perhaps a little petty. “Unless you’d like to wait for Wolf to return and see to that.”
After Envy had shown Camilla to her private room and attached bathing chamber, he retired to his own bedroom suite. The cottage was large and well-appointed, fit for a prince who wished for others to envy him. It also happened to be the perfect place to entertain Camilla while he privately checked his court. After tending to his wounds.
He hissed as he slowly peeled off his shirt. His cuts had only partially healed, causing his skin to freshly rip again when he removed his clothing.